Chapter 5
Chapter
There was nothing so mutually heartening and frustrating as the persistent encouragement of an observant friend.
For alas, Margaret didn’t wish to be encouraged at this particular moment.
At least not regarding her prospective involvement in the purloined patent case.
At this particular moment, she wished nothing more than to seek sanctuary in her familiar workshop, keep company with her reliable tools, and pretend she didn’t have to give the chief an answer by tomorrow.
Accelerating the speed of her mechanized wheelchair, Margaret zoomed through the swinging door of her experimenting room at D.O.G.S.
headquarters. Before she could reach her worktable’s remote—and the button that automatically locked said door—fleet-footed Helena burst inside, one hand holding Flopsy Cottontail and the other planted firmly upon her hip.
Helena huffed, rustling a trio of leaves snagged in the rumpled plait draped over her shoulder. “Stalls are for horses, Maggie.”
“I’m not stalling.”
One of Helena’s brows arched as her brown eyes narrowed. “You’re stalling. And what’s worse, you’re hiding.”
“Nonsense. I’m just . . . retiring for a moment’s reflection.”
With a dramatic roll of her eyes, Helena shifted her gaze to Flopsy Cottontail. “Did you find that at all convincing?” The lop-eared bunny responded with a twitch of her white nose, and Helena sighed. “Me neither.”
Placing Flopsy atop the table, Helena crossed her arms and pinned Margaret with her gaze as though she were mounting a butterfly for study. “Maggie, how long have we known each other?”
Margaret mentally calculated the duration of their friendship. “Twelve years and eight days, to be precise.”
“To be less precise and more succinct, I’ve known you for an age. Long enough for a child to mature from the nursey to the schoolroom. Long enough to know that any disturbance of routine results in your scurrying off to this workshop to hide while you thinker.”
Margaret’s head tilted. “Don’t you mean tinker?”
“I said what I meant and meant exactly what I said. You thinker—tinker while you think. Intensely and obsessively. You thinker until every bit of metal in sight has been oiled, tightened, or welded. You thinker until your poor thinker is properly thunked out.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I, now?” Helena glanced at Margaret’s hands, which had taken to winding the springs of a half-finished device.
Great gadgets, of all the absentmindedness! Margaret dropped the device and tool upon the table with a clatter. “Very well, I shall concede to the charge of thinkery, but I fail to see how processing the unexpected in productive solitude constitutes anything problematic.”
“That’s just the thing, Maggie . . . you never truly process the unexpected.
You simply hide away, thinkering, until the unforeseen circumstances pass.
Avoidance is not processing, and this case you’ve been asked to lead is not something you can hide from till it goes away.
You’re going to have to face this disturbance and come to a decision, and admittedly, I don’t understand why it should necessitate much thinkery.
I know you’ve matters of health to consider, but surely this case won’t require more exertion than you employ here every day. ”
Ah, but Helena had no idea just how much her exertion at the D.O.G.S. cost.
Margaret bit her cheek’s interior. Sometimes she questioned her decision to refrain from telling her sisters about the accident and the extent of her injuries, but without fail, the hard facts pounded her question marks into a period, ending the conversation before it had a chance to begin.
Cause and effect had shown her, most conclusively, that if one burdens their friends, they’re sure and certain to lose them.
Physical limitations, she’d learned to endure and accommodate. Chronic pain, she’d come to accept and withstand. But if her D.O.G.S. sisters set her aside like a cumbersome pack not worth the trouble it took to heft on one’s back, Margaret feared she’d never recover.
A light weight pressed upon Margaret’s shoulder. She looked up to find herself nose to nose with Miss Flopsy Cottontail, the bunny’s fluffy form stretched from the worktable to her person. Flopsy sniffed her face inquisitively.
“You’d taken a bit of tumble down the rabbit hole, Alice, so I sent my white rabbit to fetch you.” Helena met her gaze with a droll smile and a wink.
Margaret picked up Flopsy and snuggled the rabbit to her chest. “Oh Helena . . . whatever am I to tell the chief?”
“That you’ll take the case, of course.”
“But I’ve no field experience. What if I bungle the entire operation?”
“This case doesn’t require field experience.
The way I see it, you wouldn’t even need to craft a false identity.
It would actually be more convenient and discreet if you went as yourself, which is probably one of the reasons the Widow chose you to begin with.
For just a moment, stop fixating on your limitations and simply consider the facts.
You frequent the patent office semi-regularly due to your prolific creative output, correct? ”
“I file for a patent or two a month, yes.” Any potentially profitable inventions the D.O.G.S. couldn’t use were filed under her name and the accruing royalties put into her personal savings.
“So . . . you are known at the patent office, and it would not be considered at all unusual for you to pop by and say, request access to the records room?”
“No. I frequently do a cursory look through the records before I file a new patent to ensure there isn’t something similar already on file. I’ve become well acquainted with Mr. Glidden, the file room clerk.”
“So, you’re a known entity at the patent office.
You’re well acquainted with the file room clerk.
And you have the mechanical expertise to compare patents.
It would take but one afternoon of relatively minimal physical effort.
And yet you’re surprised the Widow requested you?
Really, you’re the most sensible choice.
The only qualified choice. The whole operation is low risk.
Low visibility. You wouldn’t even require reinforcements.
Taking someone with you would merely draw undue attention, as it strays from your normal practice.
Don’t think of it as taking the lead on a case but rather as running an errand for a friend since you’ll be in that part of town. ”
Margaret followed the train of logic and found no broken pieces of track or carriages precariously dislodged from the rails.
Laid out thusly, the notion seemed far less frightening.
Far less implausible. In fact, it should be quite .
. . easy. Just one case. A simple running of an errand.
If it triggered a crash, she could always accept the offer of extended leave to recuperate.
Perhaps she could do this one case. Perhaps this was God’s way of giving her a chance to be of more use to the agency. A chance to show herself and her sisters she was worth keeping around.